Her
by Mac47
Summary: Robin, a hard-working single father, is drawn to the beautiful Regina, a woman forced by circumstance to prostitute herself for survival. From the moment they meet, their lives will be entwined.


This wasn't him. Of that much, he was certain.

This man sitting behind the wheel of his car just . . . staring. This wasn't the kind-hearted man with strong morals. This wasn't the man who ran a youth center for underprivileged children. This most definitely wasn't the Robin Locksley who hadn't thought much about women at all since the birth of his son.

No. That man, the good, upstanding family man, seemed to have evaporated into thin air.

This man, the one left in his place, was _weak_.

This man was _obsessed_.

It had started only a week ago. He had stayed late cleaning and organizing the supply closet at the youth center where he worked. It had been well past 10 o'clock when he had finally called it quits and grabbed his satchel to head home.

The city neighborhood surrounding the center looked like a different world after dark. There were no kids playing ball in the street or running through the overgrown grass of the empty lot across the street. The only signs of life came from the softly lit windows of the run-down row houses lining the block.

Robin had rubbed his eyes before putting the key in the ignition of his car. His mind wandered through the ever-growing list of things he needed to accomplish in the coming weeks. The end of November was rapidly approaching and once the local schools let out for the holiday the neighborhood kids would be flooding the center looking for entertainment, food, and warmth.

It was several minutes before he realized that his wandering mind had allowed the car to steer him in the opposite direction of his apartment. Pulling over to the curb near a four-way stop, he paused and attempted to determine where he'd ended up.

That's when he saw _her_.

She wasn't just pretty, he'd thought to himself. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in real life. He'd never truly understood the word "breathtaking" before that moment. But that's what she was. Just the sight of her made it difficult for his lungs to take in oxygen.

His eyes didn't leave _her_ as she reached into her small clutch to pull out a cigarette. Her hands shook slightly from the cold as she lit it and lifted it to her lips. His breathing remained unsteady as he watched her lean against the brick building behind her and take a slow drag from the cigarette held delicately between her fingers.

When a small smile, almost a smirk, graced her face, he could actually feel his heart skip a beat. As she artfully dropped the cigarette to the ground, smothered it with her heel, and turned toward what had inspired her expression, a smile began to form on his own lips.

Until he saw exactly what had caused _her_ smile.

A beat up four-door pulled up beside _her_ and the passenger side window rolled down. She gracefully leaned down to speak with the driver, a man who appeared to be in his thirties or forties, but whose face was mostly obscured by the darkness. When she rested her arms on the window's ledge, she allowed her cleavage to show and the sides of her long coat to part. This action revealed a tight mini-skirt that Robin felt certain might kill him then and there. Although he could not have described the driver's facial features for his life, Robin could clearly make out the shit-eating grin adorning the man's face as he gestured for _her_ to get in the car.

Robin's breathing stopped again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

It's not like he hadn't _known_ this happened in the neighborhood. He'd heard the kids talking about it, had gotten the warnings from the local cops who patrolled near the center, and had even seen it himself when he'd driven kids home after a movie night or some other long running evening event.

But this was different.

Seeing it.

Seeing _her_ made it different.

How could anyone so beautiful, so captivating, be forced to live a life like this? Selling her body to whatever low life creep pulled up to the curb?

Every muscle in his body froze as he watched her open the door and climb in to the passenger seat. He couldn't blink as he watched her disappear below the dashboard, her face planted in the lap of the male driver.

Robin's blood began to boil. He heard a voice screaming in his head, demanding that he stop this, that he stop the man with the shit-eating grin from defiling _her_. But he stayed frozen, his eyes trying to break contact with the man and his ever-growing grin but failing miserably. His lungs were finally able to function when he saw her reappear through the windshield, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

Robin's eyes followed her as she exited the car while discretely counting a small wad of paper bills that had been shoved at her before she was unceremoniously tossed out by the man with the shit-eating grin. She tucked the bills into her clutch and returned to her spot on the brick wall. Fumbling with his keys, Robin quickly restarted his car and drove off before he could question himself.

But his mind didn't leave _her_ once as he drove home. It didn't leave _her_ as he walked up the steps to his second floor apartment. Or when he put his key in the door. Or when he paid the babysitter. Or when he crept in to kiss his sleeping son goodnight. In fact, his mind didn't leave _her_ for the next few days. Despite promising himself to dismiss her somehow, to forget that he ever encountered her, he simply couldn't.

And that's how Robin found himself parked in the same spot where he had pulled over to think, the spot where he had first seen _her_. He told himself that it would only be one time, that he just needed to see _her_ one more time to forget her.

But once wasn't enough.

One night turned in to two.

Then three.

Then every night week.

But this was the last time, he silently swore to himself. He'd been parked for only a moment, and the inevitable guilt at his actions began. He typed out a text to the babysitter saying he would be home shortly, knowing that sending it would force him to abandon his somewhat voyeuristic new hobby. As his thumb moved to hit the send button, he heard a soft tap on his window. The phone dropped out of his hand and disappeared on the floor.

There she was, just inches away from him. Her left hand rested on her hip, evidence of her annoyance, while she gestured for him to unlock the passenger door with her right. He quickly fumbled for the button on his door that would allow her entry and was eternally grateful that his surprise only briefly delayed the task.

After barely having pressed unlock, she quickly opened the door and made herself comfortable in the seat beside him. Too stunned to speak, he simply stared at her. After almost a week, he felt he could describe her every feature, but oh how wrong he had been. He was stunned that she was even more beautiful up close, where he could see the flecks of chestnut in her dark brown eyes and the small scar over her lip. She was every bit as breathtaking up close, maybe even more so.

"You know, I usually charge for watching."


End file.
